


Give me the night (I'll give you the truth)

by dwarrowkings



Series: Gentleman's Wager Series - took my word I took your wine [2]
Category: Gentleman's Wager Series
Genre: Age Difference, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Fluff and Angst, Italian Endearments, Jude is in for some emotional distress, Love Confessions, M/M, Rated T for there's some very non-specific nudity in this, Slow Romance, a truly giant ham sandwich with pickles on it, if you know how to tag that please let me know & I will be happy to update, oops its a gay age difference scandal that's made up for PR, there's actually too many fucks for this to be rated pg-13, this is truly very romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwarrowkings/pseuds/dwarrowkings
Summary: “Oh, caro mio,” Giancarlo’s voice dips into the very low, fond tone Jude loves and the first sob threatens to break through. “Come in, come in. Where are my manners?” He reaches for Jude’s shoulders to take his coat, and Jude lets him. “You poor thing, you’re soaked through.” Giancarlo is in his bare feet—hadn’t even grabbed his slippers before rushing to answer the door in the middle of the night—and Jude feels guilty for dripping cold water on the tile for him to step on.---Jude's PR manager leaks a rumor to the press about his & Giancarlo's relationship that's not very true. It's a little bit true - because they are in love, but they're not actually dating yet.
Relationships: Jude Walker/Giancarlo Walker
Series: Gentleman's Wager Series - took my word I took your wine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897531
Comments: 10
Kudos: 5





	Give me the night (I'll give you the truth)

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on two short films:[A Gentleman's Wager](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4393i2-OWk) and [A Gentleman's Wager II](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TgSW9EjnqE). 
> 
> Title from "Give Me the Night" by Des Rocs.
> 
> Thanks to [@lurlur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur) and [@D20Owlbear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear) for being great people and encouraging the fuck out of this... whatever this is.

Giancarlo had said he’d be welcome whenever, but Jude thinks that this might be pushing his hospitality a bridge too far. It’s raining for one, and Jude is soaked through. This makes him even more nervous considering point two: he’s unsure of his welcome. Will Giancarlo even still want him around? After all this comes out, Jude will not blame him if the answer is no.

The plastic bag crinkles in his hand, full of half eaten candy bars and trash from the plane. Fuck his diet, fuck his job. Fuck, firstly and foremost, his ex-manager. 

Jude knows Giancarlo usually stays up late, though 2 am is probably pushing it. Mostly, they talk on the phone; the middle of the night is pretty consistent for Jude not being on the job, at least for now. It’s the perfect time to call ‘just to talk.’ To be alone and pretend that they’re together instead of thousands of miles apart. Just his voice and his breathing and Jude imagining him warm and curled up beside him. 

Jude doesn’t know how or why Giancarlo is so easy to talk to, but he’s always grateful for it. The tension drains out of him when he hears Giancarlo’s easy voice on the other end of the line. Some days, it’s the only thing that keeps him afloat. 

Right now, he knows that he needs the real thing. 

The flight had been terrible, but not through any fault of the airline or the other passengers. Jude’s mood was awful, therefore everything was. Jude knew who’d to pin the blame on, and he did. Ruthlessly. Probably he’d gotten to Italy before the papers got set out, so it’s not too bad yet. But it will be. 

Soon, the whole world will know that Jude is dating Giancarlo Walker. The papers will say that Jude fucked Giancarlo Walker for money or career advancements or however they’re going to spin it, and none of it will be true. And even if somehow this had come out later, Jude would still be angry about it. Because he isn't Giancarlo Walker's twink boy toy, no matter what anyone says. He's not a sugar baby, though there's nothing wrong with it except the implication that it’s dirty. 

Giancarlo Walker is the best thing that has ever happened to Jude. 

And the worst part is—Jude wants parts of the accusations to be true. To have shared more than the clasp of hands over a dinner table or a sweet forehead kiss at the end of the night. 

Jude knocks on the front door. It hurts his knuckles, which is good because it gives him something else to focus on. In the middle of the second round of knocks, the door swings in, and Jude almost hits Giancarlo in the shoulder with his fist. He pulls back too fast, cradling his fist against his chest. 

“Jude?” Giancarlo asks. His voice is dark, and sleep-husky. “Va tutto bene?” Now that Jude is face to face with Giancarlo, he doesn’t know what to say. How to explain. Maybe a scandal like this will launch Jude’s career in a way that nothing else has, but what will it do to Giancarlo’s reputation? 

“Hey,” Jude says, and he can’t get anything else out. There’s a furious rush of tears that wants to escape, but he can’t let them out, so nothing is getting out. 

“Oh, caro mio,” Giancarlo’s voice dips into the very low, fond tone Jude loves and the first sob threatens to break through. “Come in, come in. Where are my manners?” He reaches for Jude’s shoulders to take his coat, and Jude lets him. “You poor thing, you’re soaked through.” Giancarlo is in his bare feet—hadn’t even grabbed his slippers before rushing to answer the door in the middle of the night—and Jude feels guilty for dripping cold water on the tile for him to step on. 

“Here, let's get you out of those wet things. You must be freezing.” Giancarlo bustles him into the bathroom upstairs and provides him with a big, fluffy towel. He turns on the tap and tells him to wait until it warms up before plugging the drain and settling in for his bath. Then he’s gone. Jude sits on the edge of the tub and pulls his socks off. 

Now that he’s alone, Jude feels empty, like if he had one more feeling, it would be too many, so he just doesn’t have any. He strips mechanically, the wet shirt jeans hitting the tile with a wet slap. He knows he should care about them, or about the floors, but he just doesn’t have the energy. When the tub is half-filled, he steps in, letting the hot water burn his cold feet. He stands there for too long, just wondering what comes next. 

When he finally sits down, the water is already reaching the overflow drain, so he turns the tap off. He pulls his knees to his chest and puts his head on his crossed arms. He’s not sure how long he sits like that. Now that he’s here, time has no meaning. Even though his life has gone to shit, being around Giancarlo has already turned some things into that dreamy, ethereal space that it always does. 

The door opens and Giancarlo comes in. He drops off a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, and picks up Jude’s wet clothing. He slips out the door without saying anything. Downstairs, Jude can hear the splash of water —the start of the washing machine. The stairs creak, and then the door opens again. 

With a sigh, Giancarlo sits on the closed lid of the toilet. Every so often, he opens his mouth and takes a breath like he’s going to speak, but he never does. 

When the water starts to cool, Jude picks up his head. He knows his eyes are red-rimmed, from the flight, from almost crying, from the heat. There’s no reproach in Giancarlo’s face—like Jude isn’t just around to be pretty _if that’s not what I’m for, then what good am I_ —only regret.

Jude hates that he made Giancarlo look at him like that, maybe even more than he hates the situation he’s in. He turns his face back to his arms and pretends that this never happened. He wants to hide, but he also wants to be here. He hates that he wants either. Maybe he can ignore it if he fakes it hard enough. 

“You know you are always welcome here.” Giancarlo starts. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and Jude can hear the “but” coming a mile away. He pauses like he’s considering his words carefully, and then says, “Are you sure this is where you want to be right now?” 

Jude looks up suddenly, dragging in a breath so deep that it hurts his chest, but the look on Giancarlo’s face stops him from saying the words on the tip of his tongue. 

“You are welcome to stay here as long as you please, tesoro, my home is yours for as long as you need.” His kind voice washes over some of Jude’s hurt feelings like a balm. But the anger still seethes underneath. There isn’t a lot he can do about that right now. 

“Did you know?” he asks, raw and vulnerable. If he’d known and not said anything, Jude doesn’t know what’d he’d do. He knows he wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

“Not before today. If I had known, I would have said something. I do not have it in me to hurt you that way, caro mio.” Jude sags in relief, but something is still bothering him.

“Aren’t you angry?” Fresh tears well in his eyes, and he swipes at them. When he can see again, he’s surprised to find that Giancarlo is much closer—kneeling next to the tub. His hand is outstretched, tanned and sturdy, hesitating to grasp Jude’s shoulder. Jude shifts closer, and Giancarlo’s fingers are gentle when he touches Jude’s shoulder, squeezing a little, and then brushing along his back to grip at the other one. He tugs Jude close, heedless of how wet he is, and presses a gentle, whiskery kiss on Jude’s shoulder. 

“I am angry that they invaded our privacy like that, yes. I’m angry that they hurt you.” He kisses Jude’s shoulder again. He reaches for Jude’s hand, and tangles their fingers together. Jude squeezes them, tilting his head toward Giancarlo’s to rest them together. He feels some of the anger seep away, leaving only the writhing, raw hurt underneath. 

“You’re not angry with me?” Jude can hear how brittle his voice is. If this were in a movie, it would be perfect, but since this is his real life, it’s fucking awful. 

Giancarlo pulls his head away, and Jude makes a hurt noise. “Why would I be angry with you?” 

“Aren’t you worried about your reputation?” Jude asks. While they haven’t exactly been hiding their relationship, they haven’t been flaunting it either. Jude hadn’t wanted to push Giancarlo into coming out if he wasn’t ready. Jude certainly wasn’t very far out of the closet yet himself. But a young, pretty model being gay isn’t exactly the same as an aging businessman. 

Giancarlo laughs, at first surprised, and then a genuine, if almost hysterical, laugh. “Coniglietto, I’m too old to hide who I am any more.” 

Jude doesn’t have a reply to that, and before he can form one, his stomach rumbles. He presses the hand that isn’t holding Giancarlo’s to his stomach. He hunches over it, embarrassed. 

“Are you hungry?” Giancarlo asks, the hawkish sound of his voice echoing Jude’s grandmother’s when he visits. 

“I ate on the plane.” Jude says, but that was hours ago. He’s already so much trouble for Giancarlo, he doesn’t want to be more. It’s fine. He’s had worse, been hungrier—on purpose even. 

“Bah, plane food is not real food. Come, dry off. I will make you a snack.” He brings Jude’s hand to his mouth and kisses it. His knees crack as he stands, and he’s a little stiff as he walks out of the bathroom, but he doesn’t complain. Jude lets the now cold water drain, staring at his feet under the water and wiggling his toes. 

When there’s no more water, he reaches for the fluffy towel, slips in the tub a little, and bangs his knee. Giancarlo yells a question up the stairs, and Jude shouts “I’m fine!” back, even though he’s very much not actually fine. He’s physically fine, so he doesn’t consider it too much of a lie. 

Giancarlo didn’t bring socks, but the floor is warm when he steps out of the bathroom. He creeps down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. He manages to reach the kitchen without making too much noise, to watch Giancarlo fuss over a plate with a sandwich on it.

His heart warms at the sight, Giancarlo with a towel thrown over his shoulder, his sleeve damp and clinging to his arm, humming to himself as he searches in the fridge for something. He comes up with a small pot of mustard and turns towards the door. He gives a sly smile, and tilts it at him. Jude’s eyebrows raise and he tilts his head with a “go ahead” gesture. 

It turns out, it’s a ham sandwich, with some kind of fresh, tangy cheese, crispy pickle, and mustard on a crusty focaccia. It’s the most carb-heavy meal that Jude has had in the last 6 years, and the first bite makes his mouth water. He’s glad he’s sitting down at the bar, because he doesn't know if his knees would hold him up. He’s never had a sandwich that was a revelation before. 

Giancarlo smiles at him while Jude devours the sandwich, leaning over the bar counter across from him. “Oh!” he exclaims suddenly. “A drink!” He turns quickly and reaches for the cabinet, tugging the door open and grabbing a glass. He pours some water from the tap and places it next to Jude’s plate. 

Jude drinks gratefully. 

“Thank you.” Jude says. Giancarlo tries to wave him off. “No, really. Thank you. For all of this. You didn’t have to.” Giancarlo looks affronted. 

“Didn’t have to!” He splutters, and it makes Jude smile at the crumbs on his plate.

“You really didn’t. And I appreciate it.” It makes him feel cared for, which slides daggers into his heart. He gathers the crumbs of bread on his plate together, and sticks them to his finger. “I’m a giant mess right now and you’ve been so patient with me.”

“Let me stop you right there.” Giancarlo says. Jude looks up from his plate and the crumbs, dumbfounded. “You are always welcome in my home.” This time, it feels like a full sentence. “While you are here, if you want anything, you will only have to ask. If I can give it to you, I will.” 

“You don’t–" Jude starts, but Giancarlo’s face is so determined that he stops. 

“I do. You are not being taken care of, Jude. You have said, over and over to me, that no one is in your corner. Maybe not in those words, but all the same. This is just one more instance of no one having your back. That ends now.” 

“What?” What could Giancarlo possibly mean? 

“Me. I’m in your corner. I don’t care about your career. I don't care about money. I don’t care about your diet. I care about you. And if you need something, I will give it to you if I am able.” He sounds so sure, so determined. The look on his face is fierce. Jude’s broken heart burns and he can feel some of the pieces fusing back together. 

His eyes burn too, and the tears that had previously only threatened to fall, spill over. 

In a flash, Giancarlo’s arms are around his shoulders, and Jude buries his face in his chest. He sobs, and Giancarlo rubs his back and shoulders. Jude clenches his hands in the front of Giancarlo’s shirt, but he doesn’t complain. He croons sweetly in Italian, and Jude doesn’t understand a word of what he says, but he finds himself comforted anyway. 

Jude cries himself out eventually and comes back to himself enough to know that his fingers hurt from clenching in Giancarlo’s shirt. Also, Giancarlo’s fingers are in his hair. His warm hand cups the back of his skull, and it’s so comforting. 

Jude tilts his head back, looking up at Giancarlo’s face. Tears trace down his cheeks as well, and that more than anything else convinces him that maybe he’s telling the truth. Jude wants to kiss him so badly—to commit the sin he’s going to pay for tomorrow. The thought rolls in his stomach, but he presses forward anyway. For a half-second, it’s nothing, and then it’s perfect. Giancarlo sighs into his mouth, his shoulders slumping a little. His fingers tighten in Jude’s hair, and Jude follows that direction and presses in further. Giancarlo pulls away, and lays his cheek on the top of Jude’s head. 

“I think that’s enough of that,” he says. His voice is rough, and it certainly sounds like he wants Jude. The two conflicting interpretations war in Jude’s head. He makes a questioning noise and pulls away. 

When he looks up, Giancarlo’s face is soft and full of affection. “Oh, caro mio. It is very late, and you have had a great upheaval. I think it is time for us to sleep, no?” 

“What about you?” Jude asks, suddenly feeling very stubborn about this. Doesn’t this affect Giancarlo just as much as it does Jude? Are they not in this together? Up until now it had felt a little like they were adrift in the ocean together. 

Now, Jude is left reaching for a life raft that doesn’t come. 

“An old man, set in his ways,” Giancarlo laughs. 

“I don’t get it. You don’t seem concerned about the scandal at all. Or your reputation.” Jude leans back, and Giancarlo gives him space. He stands, puts his hands on his hips and scowls. He barely restrains the urge to stamp his foot on the ground. “You are so concerned about me, but who’s going to be concerned about you?”

“I am an old man. It makes no difference to me what people say. I have made more money than I could ever think to spend in my lifetime, what do I care if some people are being rude? Jude, you are at the beginning of your life, and so you need people to help you. You need to accomplish things. You need to be able to live your life. I’m 56 years old. I’ve accomplished all I wanted to and more. If I spend my remaining years in this world loving you and doing nothing else, I will have lived a full life.” 

Jude’s stomach drops. Had… Did Giancarlo just say… 

“Did you just...?” He asks weakly. Giancarlo steps in, and cups Jude’s face in his hands. He tips his head up and stands up on his toes to press their foreheads together. 

“Jude, my darling. I thought you knew.” Jude looks back at how Giancarlo treats him—like he’s important, like there’s no one else in the room when he’s there. 

“I thought I did too.” 

“Ah, I see. Hearing the words is different.” Jude nods. He turns his face, and presses a kiss to the palm of Giancarlo’s hand. Giancarlo smiles at him, that wonderful, fond smile that makes Jude’s heart swell every time. “Maybe it is time for sleep, yes?”

Jude laughs and agrees. “I think so. Thank you.” 

Giancarlo looks taken aback. “Whatever for?”

“Being you.” Giancarlo smiles. He reaches down, and catches Jude by the hand, and tugs him upstairs towards the bedroom.


End file.
